Who is right, who can tell, and who gives a damn
by asitiswhenitwas
Summary: Scott has to ‘rescue’ Jean from a party at Duncan’s house after he receives a drunken rambling phone call from her. Pre series. Duncan Jean, Scott Jean.


**Title: **Who is right, who can tell, and who gives a damn right now.  
**Series: **X-men Evolution.  
**Rating:** PG-13.  
**Pairing: **Duncan/Jean. Scott/Jean.  
**Disclaimer: **Own nothing.  
**Notes: **Takes place before the series begins. This event was referenced in my previous story "All she asks, the strength to hold me." This fic was written for the "Letters" challenge at the JeannieXSlim 'Live Journal' community.  
**Summary: **Scott has to 'rescue' Jean from a party at Duncan's house after he receives a drunken rambling phone call from her.

---

Tires squeal as his convertible fishtailed to a stop. The content of her drunken rambling phone message running laps in his mind as he sprinted up the stairs to the Matthew's front door. Homecoming party or no, it would take an act of god to keep Scott from throwing Duncan out of one of the bay windows that overlooked the cliffs below.

Whether or not god was involved is unknown, but, fortunately for his criminal record Scott found Jean first. She was stumbling a bit, loudly arguing with a friend. Teryn was it? He wasn't sure, they had been introduced once or twice but right now he didn't much care.

"Hey Scott…" he did his best to ignore the seductive tone Teryn used as she 'accidentally' brushed her chest against his arm.

"er… hi." he pulled Jean to the side trying to catch her eye. Upon realizing that Scott was holding her arm, Jean pulled away from his grasp.

"Scott! You made it!" she shouted while glomping onto him in a tight bear hug.

"Jean?" he questioned tentatively. It became a loud statement as he felt a momentary pinch on his rear.

"You have a cute butt… you know that." She swayed a bit, unsure of her footing. Scott noticed her words slurring slightly.

"Jean. I'm taking you home." He held onto her shoulders to steady her.

"My, aren't you forward!" She grinned. "I have a boyfriend."

"Don't remind me…" he muttered under his breath as he led her to the door.

"What was that?" she asked while turning around, making his job that much harder.

"You're drunk."

"You're high."

"I'm not high. I don't - -" she cut him off.

"Your eyes are all red."

"Those are my glasses."

"Whatever…" she leaned around him "Hey Teryn doesn't Scott have a cute… hey, where is Teryn?"

"I don't know… can we go now?" He had at this point wrestled her to the door and was trying to get her to go through it.

After just about pushing her through the door and starting to pull it closed he saw her aforementioned boyfriend, Duncan 'Johnny football hero' Matthews with his tongue down some cheerleader's throat. How very 'Star Quarterback' of him.

"I'm driving!" Jean all but shouted as she started to stumble down the long staircase toward the driveway. Rage was put on hold as he sprinted down the stairs after her to make sure she didn't break her ankle, neck, or both.

"No way in hell." He stabilized her for the last few steps of her decent. She brushed his hand off of her shoulder as they approached his car.

"I'm driving." She said matter-of-factly while levitating his car keys out of his front pocket. He caught them as they wobbled and shook through the air.

"You are drunk."

"I was drinking punch."

"Who knows what he slipped into it…" She reached out for his keys again. He held her off at arms length while opening the passenger side door. Rather than stand up for Duncan she decided to punch Scott as hard as she could in the shoulder.

"Jean!" After reeling back he placed his hands on her shoulders looking into her eyes. "First, it's my car. Second, you ARE drunk. Third, you would never pass a field sobriety test."

"Shut up." She leaned forward a bit.

"Fine. Alphabet. Backwards. Now." He leaned back, pressed into the side of his car, fully aware of her proximity as she attempted to catch her balance.

"Z, Y, U, V, W, X - -" he cut her off.

"See?" he smiled a bit, guiding her into the passenger seat. "Seatbelt." She grumbled a bit while fumbling with the clasp.

"You do it." He turned the engine over, pulling out of the driveway.

"Do what?"

"Alphabet. Backwards. Now."

"I'm sober."

"Don't roll your eyes at me Summers."

"You are drunk."

"You're high."

"I'm not high. I don't do drugs. You are imagining things."

"Explain your eyes then."

"Red sunglasses."

"I can see your eyes. They're bloodshot."

"What about it."

"Do it."

"I don't have anything to prove."

"Fine." She cranked the radio; he sighed deeply, content to forgo conversation on the ride home to the institute. He tried his best to keep his mind on the road and not how high her skirt was riding.

/ Z,Y,X,W,V,U,T,S,Q,R… Damnit!/

Jean giggled slightly.

"What?"

"Nothing… too much punch I think."

/ Z,Y,X,W,V,U,T,S,R,Q,P,O,N,M,L,J,K… Damnit!/

Jean burst out into laughter.

"Stop reading my mind."

"Stop projecting."

"All of my shields are up."

"Why were you crying?"

/ Z,Y,X,W,V,U,T,S,R,Q,P,O,N,M,L,K,J,I,H,G,E,F… Damnit!/

Jean was now, officially, giggling uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry Scott. I can't help it."

"… Sure…"

/ Z,Y,X,W,V,U,T,S,R,Q,P,O,N,M,L,K,J,I,H,G,F,E,D,**C,A,B. Damnit.**/

"Ok… how do you get it wrong on the last letter?" He slowed the car to a stop after pulling into the institute's garage.

"I didn't get it wrong. I was pointing out that the next time your asshole boyfriend drugs you and you need a ride home, you should call a cab." He cut the radio and put the car in park.

"What's your problem with Duncan?" he unbuckled his seatbelt and was reaching for the driver side door. "Scott. Answer me." She had unbuckled her seatbelt and was now leaning over him, reaching for his hand as it pulled the door handle.

"I don't like him." He answered plainly. Trying not to look at her, noticing just how low cut her top is.

"Not good enough Summers." His breath caught as her chest brushed up against his while she pulled his hand away from the door. Retreating only slightly to her seat, she raised a hand to cup his chin forcing him to look into her eyes.

"He's not good enou- -" She cut him off with an index finger on his lips, faces inches apart.

"And who" a wicked smile crossed her lips "do you think" she placed a hand on his thigh leaning forward a bit more "is good enough?"

"Jean?" His heart skipped a beat as her finger trailed down his chin, her head tilting slightly. A moment before her lips took his she stopped and scrambled to the passenger side door. She swung it open violently, her alcohol consumption finally catching up to her. Leaning out of Scott's car she vomited all over the cold cement garage floor.

He held her hair and rubbed her back. In a few minutes he would carry her up to her room, lay her on her bed, and return to the garage to clean the mess. The whole while he would remember exactly why he was crying; and just who he thought was good enough for her.

/ Z,Y,X,W,V,U,T,S,R,Q,P,O,N,M,L,K,J,I,H,G,F,E,D,C,B,A… Damnit…/

**  
Disorder.**

**(Asitiswhenitwas)**  
Thank you for reading. Feedback is adored.


End file.
